


The Warrior And Her King

by Sacred



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feeding Stuffing Belly Rubs Mutual Weight Gain Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2688446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacred/pseuds/Sacred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Sif attends a secret meeting for a shared desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Warrior And Her King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Lady Sif took stock of her surroundings as she moved among her fellow Asgardians here in this far away tavern near the edge of civilized Asgard proper. There were passed out fellows in half eaten plates, lushes slurping down their beer, men and women alike, the dregs of society. Among such people, Lady Sif moved, withdrawing a specially gifted key and placing it in an enchanted lock. To any onlookers sober enough to see her, they would see nothing of her presence or where she was going as soon as the key entered the lock, a doorway opening up to a private chamber.

The creator of said private chamber smirked as he took in the lithe, toned form of Lady Sif. Her fierce blue eyes locking with his, the fierceness of her gaze subsiding, growing far softer than anyone who knew Sif or this man would think they were capable of. She removed the heavy cloak she had been wearing, revealing her warrior armor, the blades she usually carried back at her quarters in the palace. 

“Undo your spell, Loki. I wish to be what I truly am once more.”

“Oh, of course, my dear lady.” A slight wriggling of his fingers and Lady Sif let out a groan as her stomach started to expand, her rear, thighs, breasts, and face shortly following after.

KLANG!

The first chunk of armor burst from her, overcome by the sack of flesh Sif called her stomach and it was still growing, drooping downwards and covering her feet from view. Feet she could also feel shredding through the boots she had brought with her. Wiggling her fingers, she smiled warmly at the sensation of fat coating them once more. More noise rang out as piece after piece of her armor cascaded around her nude figure, finally leaving Lady Sif as she truly was.

A very fat woman, the kind that made her dear friend Volstagg look positively skinny by comparison. Sif's hands roamed and kneaded her true form, pressing here, groping there, biting her lip as lust filled her. She had missed the sensation of jiggling flesh all around her. She pressed both hands against either cheek, squeezing for all she was worth before bending over as far as she could only to be stopped by her gut. She couldn't touch her toes, she could just barely see her feet hunched over as she was. Standing straight up again, Sif moved towards Loki, thigh squishing against thigh, heart pounding as it pumped blood, exertion escaping her pores as she moved one obese leg in front of the other, stopping just short of her companion in this endeavor.

“I know I am not the only one who has missed being like this.”

A waggle of his fingers caused the buttons on his outfit to burst, one after another, pop, pop, pop, some striking Sif, others darting here and there as his creamy pale gut exploded into life. His face followed, his slim pectorals rounding out to become heaving sacks of flesh only just a tad smaller than Sif's own globular breasts. She was also quite pleased to see his rear consume the entirety of the throne he sat on, spilling over the edge a tad.

Soon enough both were equally nude and not quite so equally large. Sif's weight far exceeded that of Loki's, especially in the mass that was her rear end. 

Loki pointed his index finger, a throne equal to Sif's enormity appearing, Sif sitting down, laughing a bit at the feeling of her bare butt drooping over either side. They were still close enough to touch one another and they did, Loki pressing deeply into her apron of a gut while Sif rubbed gently along the multiple rolls that made up the former prince's belly. Deep rumbles echoed from both middles, Sif looking into Loki's eyes.

A nod, another gesture, and a feast all their own shimmered into view.

“Feed me first, as your ruler.”

Sif nodded, the only one who knew that “Odin” was actually Loki, the trickster having revealed himself after Thor left yet again for Midgard on Avengers business. Her breath caught at the needy, plaintive way the man clenched his teeth together, his tongue wiping along his lips as she brought a bit of ham towards his mouth. He opened expectantly, she shoved as much of the roast pig as she could into his maw. Flushed breathing escaped his nostrils as his mouth worked, chewing mercilessly, his green eyes becoming an emerald flame as he consumed, swallowing more and more of the food as Sif fed him. She trailed along his throat with her fingers as he swallowed a particularly large chunk, stopping as it came to rest in his gut. Her other hand shoved the rest of the ham inside his mouth, rubbing softly as he started to whine from the fullness filling his stomach.

She should have guessed, considering the ham she'd fed him would be enough to feed three Asgardian males of average weight. She resumed rubbing, slow, gentle, circles, pressing here, kneading there, a particularly sharp press resulting in a burst of hot air from his lips. She looked up into his eyes, simply smiled, and placed a kiss on his stomach. His own hands joined hers as she continued rubbing, his fingers squeezing as her other hand reached for more. A goblet of wine, a few bits of boar, a creamy pastry, more and more she fed him until finally he pushed her hands away, face flushed and breathing heavy.

“I...huff...URAP...thank you, Lady Sif, but I do believe it is my duty as your...hun...hun...your ruler to return the favor, no?”

“If that is what my king wishes, though I thought you enjoyed me taking care of you?”

“Variety, my dear. Besides, we both know this is not the end of our fun together.”

She smiles warmly at him, moving as far back as she can, eyes widening a bit as he waves his fingers in front of her and suddenly she's wearing an exact duplicate of his normal green robes and suit underneath that, save the fit is just a little snug on her figure. Obviously enhanced tailoring was involved with the magic and she laughed as she realized what he had planned owing to the slightly constricting nature of the garb she was now wearing.

There is no tenderness as he cups as much of her fat face as he can, no coddling as he approaches with a simply enormous turkey drumstick, just feeding her, not waiting until she is ready, but pressing onward. She loves that he doesn't coddle her, that he expects her to handle what she is fed, regardless of the type of food. She starts chewing, as fast as she can, barely able to breathe as a pastry is shoved in, cream squiring outwards and dripping down her chin as she takes a mighty bite. A bowl of hearty broth is placed just under that food-coated chin and she buries her face in it, taking great gulps of the stuff, feeling the warmth of the meal travel down to her middle where it stays, sloshing about. A huge mug, the largest she can recall seeing in recent memory, topped with foam, is held up to her lips, Loki wasting no time in tipping it over. 

“Gulp, gulp, gulp!” Sif swallows, feeling the mead mix with the broth, her stomach straining as it starts to turn scarlet. Pop! Pop! Pop! Buttons fly, tears ringing out. She sighs as the tankard is finished, sees the approaching pheasant dipped in berry sauce and vents the pressure building up inside of her body. “BUUURAAAAPP!”

The hot air barely has room to spread its stink before the dead bird is pressed into her mouth, more chewing, swallowing, more food. 

Finally, he stops as a bit of the bread crumbs from the hearty grain of Asgard trickles from her lips after a nasty hiccup, more hot wind blasting from her mouth as her eyes close.

“Huff...my...OPH King! That was...oh...hnnn...ugh...the best yet!”

He takes in her heaving body, the sweat and food coating what flesh of hers has destroyed the garments she was wearing. Now just tatters and more of her fat are visible, nothing of the intricate designs of the outfit, the fine tailoring. Just a monument to gluttony, well-sated.

“A nap is in order, I think,” he murmured.

Sif responded with a grunt as she placed both hands on her middle and pressed deeply, eliciting the loudest belch yet before struggling to get to her feet. Finally managing after several moments of struggle, she took a step towards her monarch, wanting to feel their stuffed bodies pressed against one another, but ended up falling face-first onto several empty and not so empty dishes.

Loki winced at the sound but soon chuckled at the wheezy snores that escaped his pig of a warrior, closing his own eyes and enjoying the feeling of his naked form jostle about as he moved a bit.

Hours later, Lady Sif was back in her armor, slim as the populace knew her to be, safe for one glaring oversight. Or not, as she turned around to glare at her king who was smirking yet again, his own features slim again.

“No half measures, my lord. Our fun is over for now,” Sif reminded him, pointing to the gut drooping downwards and looking absolutely comical on her toned body.

“Our fun is, yes, but mine is not.”

“I shall stuff you twice as worse as you fed me the next time we meet unless you undo this now.”

Loki just nodded his head, eyes turning into emerald fire as he pointed at her. 

A moment later Sif found herself in the main eating quarters of the Warriors Three, gut drooping, stomach rumbling, and her comrades laughter coming to life all around. Still, she couldn't help the pulse of arousal that thrilled her at the present shame, deciding to not stuff her hog of a king too badly. 

“What is the meaning of this, dear friend?” Hogun asked, recovering from his shock and whacking the chortling Frandal and Volstagg over the head.

“I am just showing Volstagg how a true warrior handles a victory feast,” Sif replied. “Now would you be so kind as to hand me that cloak? I would rather not show all of Asgard Volstagg's shame at being bested by a far lighter opponent.”


End file.
